


Friday Night

by sharkplant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Always-a-Girl!Sam, F/F, Gen, Homophobic Slurs, Rule 63, always-a-girl!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkplant/pseuds/sharkplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another Friday for the sisters Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wearing camo cargo-pants and eating lots of french toast this week and I had girl!dean emotions so I wrote them down. Can be read as wincest without squinting. tw: slurs. Sam is 15.

Sam is on the verge of tears when Dean picks her up.

‘Who do I need to Chuck Norris?’ she asks, pulling Sam close, her face squished into Dad’s old leather jacket. Dad said that it wasn’t for girls but Dean wears it anyway. She wasn’t a girl.

Girls worry about prom dresses, their boobs or their hair.

Dean didn’t worry about that stuff. 

She worries about Sammy. 

Said Sammy was shaking her head.

‘What do you mean no?’ Dean asks. ‘If some dick or bitch said or did something to you, I will break their ass.’

‘Wasn’t about me,’ Sam blubs. ‘Was about you.’

‘Sammy, what they say?’

‘They called you a dyke.’

The word stung. Dean hears it often enough. Mostly because she looks the part, not that they know about the girls she hooks up with.

‘Screw them,’ Dean says, rubbing at Sam’s shoulder with the arm wrapped around her. ‘They don’t know about us, what we do. Who I fuck is the least of their worries.’

Sam rubs at her eyes with the heel of her hand and smiles. ‘Yeah.’

Dean smiles back and messes up Sam’s hair, Sam defending as best as she can, but it is weak. ‘De-ean!’ she cries, batting her sister off.

Dean laughs. ‘Sorry but you’re such a dork, I had to.’

Sam gives her a face until they get back to the motel.

//

‘Hey,’ Dean calls from the bathroom, ‘no idiot box until your homework is done.’ She comes out with a towel wrapped around her, skin pink, her fringe in her eyes, wet from the shower.

Whenever Dean talks about girls, it was soft, warm curves, not the hard lines that Dean sports. But she did have boobs. Sam didn’t really see them much because Dean almost always wore a sports bra that was a size too small, made her flatter, kept them out of the way.

But Sam is looking now, whatever cartoon she was watching now forgotten. Dean is pulling on a black, mostly clean, tank before rooting through her duffle, probably for a pair of panties.

‘Am I a cheap show?’ she comments, pulling on a pair of camouflage cargos a size too big on her hips, so she has to tie the belt really tight so they stay up, but Sam can see the baby pink elastic where the cargos dips. ‘Come on. Homework.’

Sam snaps off the TV and crawls on their bed over toward her school bag, digging for her science book while Dean dries her hair.

//

Dean is making pasta for dinner. The sauce had been cheap at some not-a-supermarket where all the food was close to or past its use by, but when she opened the jar it smelt fine and heat killed bacteria, right?

Sam is unpacking the groceries Dean had bought before going to meet Sam; day-old bread, milk, a few eggs, tinned beans, an avocado –at which Sam freaks at because fresh food equals expensive so she gives Dean a look which Dean ignores by stirring the noodles. ‘I was thinking of making guacamole to go with the beans. When Dad gets back maybe.’-, a small stack of plastic cheese, a box of stale cheerios and a shaker of brown and white.

She holds it up to Dean. ‘What’s this?’

‘Cinnamon sugar. I saw it cheap and I thought French toast tomorrow for breakfast,’ she smiled. ‘Food’s up.’ She pulls the pots from the stove and dishes up the pasta –she “slips” with the spoon and gives Sam a big chunk-, the sauce and unwrapped a slice of plastic cheese each and put it over the top of both bowls.

They sit on the bed, flip on the TV and eat watching Iron Chef, pretending their meal is better.

//

Sam starts yawning at 11, the station they are on broadcasting some Swiss foreign film. Dean clicks it off.

‘Why you do that?’ Sam complains, sleepily trying to reach for the remote in Dean’s out-stretched in the other direction hand.

‘Because,’ Dean answers, keeping her arm straight even with Sam trying to tickle her.

‘That’s a shitty answer,’ Sam responds with a yawn, giving up the remote and leaning back into the pillows.

‘Well it’s the only one you’re getting. Go brush your teeth.’

‘Don’t want to,’ Sam mumbles.

Dean pokes her in the rib, causing Sam to jerk. ‘Well we don’t exactly have the dough lying around to get someone to fill your cavities. Go brush your teeth.’

Sam huffs and rolls off the bed. ‘Come do yours too, hypocrite!’

Dean joins her sister, looking down at the floor and her pants, stained with plenty of unidentifiable stains. Although she is certain the one on the hem of the left leg was blood.  
Her own, hopefully.

‘Do you wanna do laundry tomorrow? Maybe go into the thriftshop?’ Dean asks, ‘get you some new clothes?’

Sam nods, tooth brush sticking absurdly out of her mouth.

//

Sam lets herself be curled around. She presses back against her sister, she is warm and safe.

Dean isn't wearing pants like normal; just her tank and the baby pink panties. Sam doesn't know that for sure but Dean is economical with her underwear so she is right in assuming.

Sam likes that Dean was cuddly. Like when she was with Sam that she was herself, not some mould their father wanted her to fit, would be willing to break Dean to make her fit if she wanted his approval.

Sam doesn't like that both of them treated her like she was some delicate china doll when she could kick both of their asses.

Well…maybe not…but she could look after herself when it came to the average person.

Dean snuffles into Sam’s hair and Sam smiles.

‘You asleep?’ Dean whispers.

‘Not with you snoring so loud,’ Sam teases.

Dean huffes and squeezes tigher, kicking a leg over Sam’s, putting her into a stuggle hug.

‘De-ean!’ Sam complains, trying to wriggle free but Dean just crushes in tighter.

‘I don’t snore.’

‘Dean!’

‘I don’t snore,’ Dean presses, laughing, making it clear to Sam she won't get out of this easily.

‘You don’t snore!’ she nearly yells.

‘And I’m awesome and the ruler of the universe?’ Dean adds, her voice grinning.

‘Yes, whatever, just let me go!’

‘Fine,’ Dean says, letting Sam go and rolling onto her side, back to Sam.

‘I hate you sometimes,’ Sam says without any real venom.

Dean rolls back over. ‘Nah. You love me,’ she grins.

It’s infectious and Sam smiles too. 

She falls asleep with that same smile on her face.


End file.
